The New Marston
by WolfMaster86
Summary: When a boy from over the mountain's parents are killed in a in a robbery, John Marston tries to help the boy, only to find his family has a past that could be the end of him, Or the Boy could be his savior. OC/OC T-language and future violence R&R Please
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

My vision was a hazy red color. As I stumbled through an open plain, gasping with every step. I wondered what had just happened. One minute a peaceful ride to Blackwater. Me and my parents heading to sell their wears at the local general store, then, A gunshot...Blood, pain, sorrow, Pa falling off the wagon, reaching for my father's gun, pain in my hip and arm...I wanted to cry. As I walked, I suddenly came upon a wooden fence. I knew what I had to do. I put my good arm on the fence, and, with extreme effort, climbed over the waste-high fence. Luckily, I didn't fall.

"I just keep getting lucky tonight..." I thought. It was a wonder why I wasn't dead. Shot twice, once in the arm and once in the hip, why hadn't I bled out yet? Why wouldn't I just die? My pa always said that I was so stubborn that death wouldn't take me if I didn't want to go. I guess he was right.

After walking alittle further, a house came into view.

"Help me!" I cried hoarsely.

Suddenly, it was as if the earth beneath me disappeared. I dropped, hit the side of what I realized to be a hill, and blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

The next thing I remember is waking up. At first, my vision was nonexistent. For a moment, I thought I was blind, but then blurry shapes began to form and they became clearer. I saw a blurry face of a man leaning over me.

I wondered how I had gotten here...

"PA! MA!" I yelled trying to get up, the man put a hand on my chest and said in a gruff voice,

"Whoa! Whoa! Calm down now! Calm down!" He said loudly.

I groaned at the sudden pain that followed his loud voice.

"John Marston!" A woman's voice snapped. "Don't yell at the boy, can't you see he's hurt?"

"I didn't yell at him Abigail," The man, John, I supposed. "At least, I didn't mean to..." He frowned.

His face became clearer as he spoke, I could see now that he wore his shaggy hair shoulder length, and had something like a beard, but not quite. It went from his chin, on his top lip, and went up the sides of his face, on one side; he had two scars on his cheek and another on his nose. They looked like knife cuts or bullet grazes...

"Where are my Ma and Pa?" I asked. "Did they make it through the attack? Are they alive?" I said, sitting up from the couch I was on.

John's face told me the answer.

Tears welled up in my eyes. No, don't cry, I'm too old to cry! I told myself.

"Its alright..." Whispered John.

That's when I broke down. Abigail stood silently on the other side of the room. John put a hand on my back to try and comfort me. It didn't help... I sat there, for how long, I don't know. I just sat there and cried.

Finally, my crying faded away, and the overwhelming sadness was replaced with just and empty feeling.

"You ok?" John asked.

"Yes." I said, no emotion in my voice. I looked at John, then at Abigail, and then back at John.

"Why did you too help me?" I asked.

John looked taken aback by the question.

"Because you needed help." He said.

"Most people would have left me to die, or shot me for being on their land." I paused. "Or robbed me blind while I was unconscious."

A deep sadness filled John's eyes. "Yeah...I guess most would..."

"Do you have any Relatives we can take you to?" Abigail asked.

I shook my head. "No. At least, not unless you want to ride all the way to North Carolina, No."

"Oh..." Abigail said, a sad look in her eyes.

"Can you at least explain what happened?"

"Well, we live just north of here, beyond the mountains, we ride here every month to sell our crops and whatnot. Most of the time it goes smoothly...But..." His voice broke off.

"Oh no!" I yelled, causing John to jump.

"What? What is it?" He asked.

"Its my Pa's Weapons, his guns and Knives! Those bandits must have them!"

John shook his head "If these are it, then they don't." He said, getting up and walking out of the room.

I finally realized, I had been lying on a couch, I looked around the room, it was covered in antlers, furs and other such Items. It reminded him of his own home. Tears shot into his eyes again, but he forced them away. He'd done enough crying for a lifetime.

John came back in, carrying a large Bowie Knife, A Colt .45 Navy, and a Henry Rifle.

"These them?" He asked.

I nodded.

He handed me the weapons back.

"What's that pistol you got?" He asked, sitting down in a chair across the room.

"A Colt 1851 .45 Navy Authentic, from my Great Grandfather He modified it from cap and ball to bullet."

"What was his name?"

"Josey Wales."

"And your name is…?"

"Carter."

"Carter Wales?"

I shook my head.

"He had a daughter, she married a man named Red Harlow. My name is Carter Harlow."

John nodded, "Alright. Nice name." He said, extending his hand for me to shake.

I took it. "Thanks."

"Is there anything from your old home you want to go get?" He asked.

"Yes. If you can spare the time."

John nodded "As soon as my Son, Jack and Uncle get home, we'll head out."

"Uh, No you won't." Abigail piped in. "He won't be able to ride for at least two days."

"Two days?" I asked.

She nodded.

"That's fine, I guess, we're usually gone that long anyway. I guess I'll have to make myself a bed in the Barn?" I asked.

"Of course not!" John and Abigail said together.

"You sleep here." John said. Then, as if he remembered something, he went back out of the room.

Returning, he was carrying something.

"Here, I found this at the Wreck of the wagon. He said, holding out a book entitled; "Stories of Bravery, Valor, and Honor. Volume 1."

I smiled.

"Thank you." I said, taking the book. Something began to trouble me. "Mr. Marston,"

"Call me John." He interrupted me.

"John, Did you happen to see a horse near the wagon? A brown and black horse, with white spots."

John nodded. "Its in the barn, it yours?"

I shook my head. "Its my fathers. Mine is at home. Its brown with black stripes. No kidding, It's a beauty."

John laughed, shaking his head slightly. "You know, I think you and Jack will get along real good."

Just then, I heard a noise, a noise I had known all my life, a wagon, it was coming from outside.

"Pa!" A voice, about my age, called out. I took the voice, to be Jack.

"Pa!" The voice said again, occupancies by the opening of a door. "Did you see that wagon up the roa-" He stopped, seeing me, and the bandages.

I felt alittle uncomfortable, but I didn't let it show.

Jack got back his voice. "Who's this?" he asked politely, still looking at me. I studied the eyes that were peering at me closely. There was nothing like resentment or hate in them, just true curiosity.

"His family...They were killed by bandits." John said.

Jack looked at John, and back at me. He shuffled his feet.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Its alright." I cut him off.

"Still, I apologize." He said.

"Jack, I would like you to meet Carter Harlow." Abigail said, glaring at John.

"Carter," She began

"Please, Call me Cj." I said simply.

"Cj, this is Jack."

Jack stuck out a hand, and I took it with my good arm, and shook.

"Good to meet you." He stated.

"And I you." I said, seeing if he would catch the meaning.

He did, responding "You a reader?" while gesturing at the book.

I nodded. "Are you?"

John laughed. "Please," He said, waving a hand at the boy, "This one will keep his nose in a book for so long, I'm surprised that he hasn't fallen in one yet." John joked.

"Yes, yes this is all fine and good, but for christ's sakes can someone help ME!" An old man said as he walking into the room, carrying a sack of corn over each shoulder.

He stopped as he saw me.

"Who the fuck is he?"

"He," John began menacingly, "is a guest, and he is in trouble. You respect that, or I will but a bullet in that empty skull of yours Uncle." He paused, then said, "Unless you want to do it." He said, looking at me.

Deciding to play along I said;

"I would, but I shouldn't waste a bullet on such an old timer like yourself." I said to the old man.

John roared with laughter, rapping his hands around his stomach, tears coming out of his eyes from laughing so hard.

For a long moment, Uncle glared at me. Then, out of nowhere, his face shifted to a grin.

"I might just get to like you, Kid." He chuckled.

John and Jack went to help Uncle unload the wagon, leaving me alone with Abigail.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Marston,"

"Call me Abigail." She stated, sitting on the armchair across from me, "Mrs. Marston makes me feel older than I should." She laughed.

"Abigail, What does John do for a living?"

"He's a rancher, of course." She simply stated.

"Yes, but those scars are bullet wounds." I stated just as simply.

She sighed, rubbing her head.

"This is something you should ask John, I might tell you too much, or too little, or something." She sighed again, sounding exhausted.

"I understand."

After a few moments, John walked back in, sitting on another armchair set across from me.

"What are we talking about?" John asked as he lit a match and threw it into the fireplace. The fire roared to life. Pleasant warmth filled the room.

"John, could you tell me how you got those scars?"

John's faced darkened. He looked at me icily for a few moments, before relenting the piercing gaze.

"..Its not something I share with strangers, or even with my own son." He said as Jack walked into what I guessed was his room.

"Lets just leave it with, once I was an outlaw. But I have turned my life around, I have…what's the word…"

"Redeemed?"

John nodded. "I have redeemed my actions. There for about I year…I kept the law, not the law of the country, the law of man, Don't Kill, Don't steal, things like that, I am known in these parts, and down in Mexico, as The Legend of the West."

He paused. "I can tell you some stories of that time, which was just recently, but as far as the other time…I want that to die. I am ashamed by what I did in my younger years."

I nodded. "I'm sorry to bring it up, and I would like to hear those stories."

John smiled. "Alright then, but for now, we all need some sleep." He said, getting up out of the chair.

"Is there anything we can do to make you any more comfortable?" Abigail asked.

"No, thank you. You've done enough for me." Abigail smiled and walked out of the room, closing the door on her and John's Bedroom. I tried to sleep, but it was impossible. Ma and Pa were dead. I cried again that night, until I finally slipped into a dark sleep.


End file.
